Tonight we celebrate the defeat of the demons, tomorrow we look to heaven and the jubilation of the countless throng of the Saints as they worship the Lamb. By way of prelude:
What a joyful sound! Lift up your hearts, sursum corda, the Gospel of salvation has one voice. Victory is assured and evil will be blown away like smoke before the wind.
Let Angels prostrate fall,
LSP
O Almighty God, who hast knit together thine elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of thy Son Christ our Lord: Grant us grace so to follow thy blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys which thou hast prepared for those who unfeignedly love thee; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who with thee and the Holy Spirit liveth and reigneth, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
Saints, pray for us, we need all the help we can get right about now.
God bless you all,
LSP
Everyone loves a train ride, especially if it's protected from enemy fire. Here's the Krajina Express:
What a civilized way to travel, you'll note the DLC dining car.
All best,
LSP
There we were, in the dead heat of a dead hot summer and we prayed, when will this heat ever end? Maybe never, so there you are at your desk, sweat dripping down onto the Dell even though your AC's running full blast like a racehorse which just can't keep up.
No kidding, the very ground is cracking under the heat and there you are, idly chopping sweating mahogany with a razor sharp kukri, chop, chop, chop, in time with failing ChiCom ceiling fan dystopia.
A knock on the door. Rap, rap, rap. You look up through the heat haze, clearing a Glock .45, "Come in!" All very Master and Commander and enter the office, and he does, a complete 5.7' of hooded aggressor. Wow, 13% produces 50% of the crime. "Where's your money at?" demands our malfeasant POC friend, waving a blunt machete and a worse than useless garbage Hi-Point.
You look hoodrat in the eye and ask, "You want money? Yeah, we all want money, so take it, it's yours, it's up the monkey, just help yourself. Hey man, have at it, feel free, it's all yours."
100% eye contact. There you are in 110* waiting on the monkey rush, call it a stand-off. So what's it gonna be? Life and death. Rush the monkey to get the cash or... not. Your call, buddy, as a dystopian fan whirs overhead, and the heat does not lessen. No, it builds.
Hoodie looks at the munificent monkey, standing tall in your corner, full off cash, a veritable simian of a floor safe, and you can see the pull of greed versus personal safety playing out in Hoodie's mind. What's it to be, rush the monkey and get the cash and die rich, or retreat out of this hot, hot room, alive.
You watch, tapping your kukri impatiently against a scarred desk, "Maybe it's time for you to go, my friend. Or maybe you want to get all up in the Rittenhouse. Your call, go ask the monkey. It's totally up to you."
Which way would you play this utterly unlikely scenario, punters?
Cheers,
LSP
En lieu of anything remotely serious from me, here's the inimitable Armchair Warlord on last night's raid into the Strip:
Update: Israeli troops withdrew after some skirmishing. It's unclear whether they ever actually entered Gaza proper or engaged from beyond the fence, or how well the respective sides came off.
The fundamental problem the IDF and the Israeli government in general faces right now is that to accomplish their stated goal of destroying Hamas, bombing, shelling and armored incursions into open areas of the Gaza Strip (which they had restricted themselves to in previous rounds of fighting) will not do the job. At some point Israeli APCs are going to have to roll up to the first line of shattered concrete housing blocks, drop ramps and dismount infantry. And those infantrymen are going to have to get behind their assault rifles and go to work. Block by block, building by building, room by room, through an army of enemies and an ocean of civilians, until the job is done.
I think at this point Netanyahu has placed an order with the butcher for a bloodbath and now he doesn't want to pay the bill.
I won't comment but will repeat:
At some point Israeli APCs are going to have to roll up to the first line of shattered concrete housing blocks, drop ramps and dismount infantry. And those infantrymen are going to have to get behind their assault rifles and go to work. Block by block, building by building, room by room, through an army of enemies and an ocean of civilians, until the job is done.
Serious business.
Pax et Bonum,
LSP
Jetsam, noun, unwanted material or goods that have been thrown overboard from a ship and washed ashore, especially material that has been discarded to lighten the vessel.
Flotsam and jetsam, floating wreckage and unwanted goods thrown off the vessel of modern life. There's a lot of it about, in no particular order:
Harvard, Satan's Vatican
Madonna, Queen of Pop
Justsin Welby, titular head of WANC (Worldwide Anglican Non-Communion)
The sheer genius of Yoko
Don't get me wrong, this isn't an exhaustive list, just a snapshot. Feel free to chime in.
Cheers,
LSP
There we were, on the back porch of the Compound about to say Evening Prayer when I looked up and lo and behold, hundreds of buzzards were flying overhead. Wow, there they were, gliding overhead into the West.
"Is this," I thought in wonder, "the Eschaton?" No fooling, I've never seen such a thing here, and yet there they were. Harbingers of apocalyptic doom. Perhaps. That in mind, it's all going on everywhere and you can Gaza read about it on the Information Superhighway.
Has this, dear readers, all eight of you, made us more or less informed. As we reflect on this, consider the omen witnessed in the expansive blue skies of the North Central Texan Free State this evening. Terrifying, eh?
In totally different yet related news, can any of you recommend a luxury, old skool, sleeper train ride.
Seriously, a luxury, old skool train and sleeper to boot, preferably with an outdoor observation deck and windows must open, which I think counts out our appalling Amtrak. Totally open to suggestions.
Haruspex,
LSP
A curious thing happened today. All the people from Mission #2 who like to go the increasingly popular Shooky's of a Thursday evening turned up at Mass first, without any prompting. That's right, with not a word from me, not even an annoyingly jocular clerical bribe, "Hey, there's a 10% discount if you go to Mass first," ha, ha, sorta thing. No, they just turned up.
Well done, team, and it makes sense. Our communion with one another flows from communion with God in the Mystical Body of Christ, nourished, vivified and deepened at the Altar. Get that right and the other follows naturally.
You know, I recall a priest in DC who told me, "We're at the point where the people here don't even think of doing a parish event without going to Mass first." Right on, worship, giving ourselves in love to God, comes first, always.
It's what we're created for, and we saw a little bit of that North Central Texas this evening.
Stella Maris,
LSP
Just some random space rock, Lord of Light. Happens of the seventh year and what's wrong with the juke box!
